The Valkyrie and the Artisan
by ChevalierRadiant
Summary: The archipelago is in chaos and the tribes at each other's throats. The dragons raids are more intense, and many are dying as a result. The Viking way of life is at an end. Astrid is tasked with drawing the tribes to the Hooligan banner to meet this growing threat, but there is much to contest with, and many who wish her to fail. Over the seas lies another who fights his destiny.


Ice, fire and the silhouette of a woman were all he saw. If he weren't exhausted and devastated by the nights' events, he imagined he would have felt awe at the sight, but alas, he had invested the last of his mental reserves into finishing the last of the reports from the raid.

"Give me good news, Weaver," the figure didn't turn to look at him. He was not the cowardly child he once was, but her tone was cold and had a bite which would put anyone on edge.

The man known as Weaver move from his position to stand beside the woman. "I wish I could Valkyrie, but then I would not be doing the job our Chief set for me."

Weaver and Valkyrie stood in silence staring out at the village set before them. The buildings were a patchwork of new and old. The village had been here for as long as anyone could remember, but with the raids, everything seemed to be replaced at least once a year. There were no longer any finely crafted building; once, those important to the clan would spend extra for fine details on their halls, but with the ever-increasing raids, it was simply a waste. Teams of men and women worked to douse the fires that remained, but some homes were already past the point of no return. The villagers left them to burn and provide heat to those toiling in the snow.

The woman finally turned her head to look at Weaver, her fierce blue eyes bore into his. They softened as she gazed at her old friend. "Just tell me Fish," her voice was both demanding and pleading.

Fishlegs sighed and turned to meet her gaze, "we are meant to use our titles when on clan business Astrid," his voice was firm, but not as hard as it would have been with any of the other villagers.

"Fish," Astrids' lips drew into a harsh line, the crinkles around her brow evident as she frowned.

Fishlegs gave a chuckle at her expression, "no one but the inner council is even meant to know of my real position in the village, and here you are squirrelling out all of my secrets."

"A talent," Astrid's expression turned lighter before sadness once again overtook them, "did we lose anyone?"

"We got lucky tonight. Some minor burns, but everyone will live. They got a few more fish than last time by the look of it."

Astrid let out a long breath, "could have been worse," fake cheer evident in her voice.

"It could'a been a lot worse," a deep voice spoke from behind them.

Neither turned while they waited for the crunching snow to approach. They stared ahead as Stoic the Vast drew level with them. His gaze was hard as he looked out over the village. His village. He placed a heavy hand on each of their shoulders and gave them both a slight squeeze. Encouragement among warriors, but from a chief, it was a sign of great respect.

"You both carried yourself well tonight. They were worse than usual," he paused to take a breath, "the raids fluctuate. They have been this bad before; twenty years. You and the others were just babes, and I still had Val and Hiccup."

Neither of them spoke. It was a rare moment for Stoic to bring up either his late wife, of his forgotten son. Neither of them needed to say anything either. They hadn't known Val, but the loss of Hiccup still stung, more so for Fishlegs.

"Get some rest lad," Stoic gave Fishlegs a gentle push as he turned to face Astrid.

Astrid watched Fishlegs trudged through the snow before moving her gaze to her chief. "Two gronkles and a zippleback, sir," she reported.

Stoic gave a small chuckle, which sounded like falling gravel, "Astrid the Valkyrie indeed, your name was well earnt." Astrid felt pride in his words, "but that is not why I am here. I have a task for you."

Astrid stood straighter, snapping to attention, "sir." Stoic was observing the building in the distance.

"I have reports from some of the other chiefs. They are experiencing more intense raids, just as we are. This is common knowledge, but there is more. There have been things going on that I haven't reported to the village. Things that not even our Weaver is aware of," Stoic paused to look at Astrid.

A cold shudder ran down Astrid's spine. For Fishlegs not to be aware of a secret… well, it was unheard of in recent memory. "I will carry your secrets if that is what you wish."

A rare grin split Stoic's face, sending pain into Astrid's chest. It was the same grin Hiccup would grace the group with after a particularly sarcastic comment during… well, ever. She mentally shook herself as her chief continued, "I know lass. But this is not something that I share lightly. I want to to know right now that you are the person I am trusting because you are the person who mourned as much as I did. No one but a true friend of Hiccup's-"

Stoic broke off, and Astrid turned away so her leader could retain his warrior's dignity, but she still spoke, "Fishlegs grieved too sir."

Stoic's grip on her shoulder tightened, "but he didn't feel it in his soul. I could see that you understood everything that my son's loss meant. You felt the very earth shift, just as I did." Stoic ploughed on, determined to finish this conversation before Astrid could speak, "for all of that I saw, and what I know my son felt, I have decided that it will be you who will represent us. I will send you to the other islands. You will assess their villages, and test their heirs. I need you to convince the other tribes to follow us into war."

Astrid stood stunned. She couldn't understand what Stoic was saying. How could she be the one to undertake this mammoth task? She was a warrior, and he wanted her to represent their people; to act as their champion and join together under one banner. It was crazy. It was stupid.

"Astrid. We need to show them how strong we are. They need to respect us to the point where they will follow us into battle."

Many things ran through Astrid's mind, the foremost being to tell Stoic that while she did indeed grieve for Hiccup, it was more out of guilt than his loss. She decided that now was not the time to dredge up the role she played in Hiccup's demise, so she settled on a simple reply.

"Why?" there it was. What everything boiled down to. What were Stoics reasons? What was so important that the tribes needed to be united. Astrid had a suspicion, but she needed to hear the words.

His gaze once again met hers. Fierce and determined. Stoic the Vast squared his massive shoulders and immersed himself into the power his position carried, "I know how to find the dragon nest."


End file.
